


Intricate Rituals

by ShoutIntoTheVoid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 Fix-It, Blood and Injury, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post episode 15x19, Tenderness, Wound Tending, not graphic tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShoutIntoTheVoid/pseuds/ShoutIntoTheVoid
Summary: Cas tends to Dean's back.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	Intricate Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Mention of blood and injury, but nothing graphic.

“Fuck.” Dean hisses at the cold touch of antiseptic ointment on his back. It had been a few weeks since the vamps—since a piece of fucking rebar of all things tried to shish-kabab him—and Dean was still healing. He’d been released from the hospital a few days back, but that only meant he had to clean and dress the wound himself. Or, not so much himself actually. Cas was back in the mix. 

Dean had just given his goodbye speech to Sammy and could feel the cold end coming. He had plenty practice in dying and knew the feeling well, when it was his time. Just before his eyes could slip shut, the sound of wings caught his ear, and then a familiar face appeared before him. At first, Dean thought that those blue eyes were his personal white light that he would follow into the great beyond and all that crap. Then, even in his fuzzy half-consciousness, a creeping fear washed over him that a reaper was wearing Cas’ face to taunt him. Though he didn’t have the strength to do anything about it, his heart seized at the thought that his memory of the angel would be perverted by Hell. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t—

“Cas?” his brother had whispered, voice wrecked and desperate. Dean could not wait for the answer and lost consciousness with Sam’s voice in his ears, with that name washing over him. 

Dean woke belly-down in a hospital bed, his right cheek pressed flushed against a pillow. The first thing he saw was Sam, asleep in a chair beside him.

Next to Sam, awake and _alive,_ was Cas. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it (or a yard rake). Underneath his eyes were puffy and red, like he’d been crying. But he smiled. Through tears he seemed to practically sing, “Hello Dean.” 

Later, Cas would explain that Jack had retrieved him from the Empty, but had remained firm that no angels would again walk the Earth. When they realized what would happen to Dean, Cas asked to intervene. To maintain Jack’s new order, he would be sent with only enough juice to stop Dean from dying, but then would remain human and powerless. The now former angel had gotten to the barn with just enough time to save Dean, but it wasn’t enough to prevent a stay at the hospital or even accelerate the healing process.

Hence, why Dean now stands in his bathroom back at the bunker, his shirt half-off, with a frustratingly close Cas applying ointment to his back.

Dean tensed with each gentle dab of the ex-angel’s finger, a tingling sensation fizzing down his back that he wasn’t entirely confident could be blamed on the frayed nerves around the still-slightly open wound. His breath hitched when Cas grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled apologetically, “I’m almost done.”

Dean nodded and, true to his word, Cas screwed to top back onto the antiseptic cream and set it back on the counter by the bowl of the sink. He picked up the roll of medical tape and began tearing four strips, which he set aside. He worked carefully and quietly, leaving Dean exposed, cold, and a little embarrassed. Silently Cas picked up a large piece of clean gauze and tenderly put it in place over the freshly treated wound. Cas let his hand linger for a moment—a warm, stable presence. 

Dean’s stomach flipped at the touch, and he tried to focus on keeping his breathing steady. One by one Cas applied the torn pieces of medical tape to secure the gauze, and the feeling of his fingers smoothing them down, touching bare skin on their fringes, nearly made the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. The feeling echoes such that he hardly registered the loss when it came. 

“Mmhmm.” Cas cleared his throat, “you can pull your shirt down now, I’m done.” He said, and then sadly under his breath “I wish I could do more.”

Dean quickly but still gingerly re-dressed. He remained standing where he was as Cas moved to wash his hands, shaking the water off the tips of his fingers before turning to wipe them on a towel.

“Cas?” Dean asked as the other man began to walk out of the bathroom. The ex-angel stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. “Thank you.” Dean breathed, a hot flush rushing high on his cheeks. _Thank you for doing this_ , he wanted to say, _for taking care of me_. Or maybe _thank you for saving me in the first place_. But he didn’t say any of that. He didn’t need to either.

A flush rose to Cas’ cheeks as a soft, understanding smile warmed his face, “Anytime Dean.”

_Thank you for loving me_ , Dean wanted to say as the other man walked away. The loss of proximity plucked at his nerves along with the phantom touches. 

_Thank you for loving me back…_ But those words died on his lips. They still hadn’t really talked about the day the Empty came. There was never a moment to really do it, what with Dean mostly unconscious up until very recently, and then Sam fussing over him once they got back to the bunker, never really letting Dean out of his sight until, well, now. 

Dean could feel the words like pearls forming on his tongue, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would string them together. 

But that was the thing wasn’t it? The one true thing that had been proven over and over again—that time was never a guarantee. 

The ache in Dean’s back was like a firm hand guiding him forward.

“Wait, Cas—”

Dean left the tension at the bathroom sink as he hurried after the other man, and let his doubt swirl down the drain like bloody water. 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to write this, but I saw thatisahotsoup's art on tumblr and was inspired. 
> 
> Check out their art here: https://thatisahotsoup.tumblr.com/post/638054563755212800/the-rituals-are-intricate
> 
> Let me know what y'all think!


End file.
